I hate it more than anything
Because the fact is, lingering:
Times of happiness predict bad days
And you can't break the cycle,
stop those fucking waves...


Some of them heal you
Some of them are of no concern
Some of them anger you
And the others hurt you

But they all have something in common
Quietly, helped by the passing time
Burning you slowly, they finally kill you


I hate it more than anything
Because the fact is, lingering:
Times of happiness predict bad days
And you can't break the cycle,
stop those fucking waves...


You can't stop them, they drown you everytime
And everytime, you resurrect, and ask for more
Because a bastard, somewhere, inoculated you the instinct
Forcing you to make this life last a little longer